


Authority

by EntreNous



Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Genre: Dom/sub, Light Dom/sub, M/M, Spanking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-04-10
Updated: 2006-04-10
Packaged: 2017-12-08 17:36:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 4,249
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/764123
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EntreNous/pseuds/EntreNous
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Xander treats Giles like a friend.  Giles thinks Xander should view him as an authority figure.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Written for [Spring With Xander](http://spring-with-xan.livejournal.com/profile). Special thanks to elucidate_this for her beta work on this fic; I seriously still think, years later, about what excellent notes I got from her.

Perhaps what happened with Xander wouldn’t have come about under different circumstances. If the girls were available for research more often instead of having their hands full with classes; if Xander had been employed that week rather than having too much free time; if Giles had accustomed himself to working through related material on his own: the relationship between them would have gone on as it normally did.

But when Buffy left a message on his answering machine about losing a week’s worth of patrolling on a single demon, Giles had decided to find answers, and Xander was the only one around to pitch in. Buffy herself was busy, obviously; she didn’t return the two messages Giles left for her. So Giles combed through the relevant texts, and Xander helped by discovering a few key points and by contributing a great deal of useless chatter.

When Buffy stopped by and they presented her with the results, her eyes widened and she cleared her throat. “Wow. Okay. The thing is, it turns out that Riley’s got the low down on this kind of demon. I mean, not that your book stuff and fun facts aren’t great. It’s just that having field knowledge and experience . . .” She trailed off, perhaps understanding that she had strayed into a sensitive area, and smiled brightly. “Okay, I’m off to go take care of this. Thanks again, guys, seriously.”

The door clicked shut.

“Wow,” Xander said from his pose sprawled out on Giles’s chair. “We suck.”

Giles waved his hand in the air impatiently, and went to the kitchen to get a glass of water. It wasn’t worth addressing what Xander had said, and it wasn’t productive to get frustrated. Just because they had wasted three days of researching that demon . . . but then, what would they have done instead?

“Want to order a pizza?” Xander called out over the sound of the running water. “There’s Kung Fu Madness starting on public access in a half hour. You don’t mind the dubbed stuff, right? We might as well check it out, since neither of us have anything better to do.”

Giles took a deep breath and then another. It was with great effort that he placed the empty glass on the counter rather than flinging it into the sink. For the past two days, Xander had been grating on his nerves, tagging along after him, complaining about Giles’s lack of snacks, spilling soda on one of the key texts about the demon, and making jokes almost non-stop.

Now Giles wished for nothing more than to spend the night sipping some of his better whisky and getting over this most recent failure. But of course Xander was still here and evidently settling in for the evening. Giles closed his eyes for a moment, willing himself to speak calmly.

“You know,” Giles said as he turned. “You treat me entirely too much as though I was . . . your friend, a peer. Just because you have graduated does not mean that the nature of our relationship has changed entirely.”

Xander gave Giles his look that indicated he was paying attention despite the apparent insanity of the speaker: eyes wide and glazed, lips parted and moist, head cocked ever so slightly to the side. On a good day it irritated Giles to be regarded in this fashion; today he could not abide it.

“How am I supposed to treat you?” Xander asked finally.

Giles pressed his lips together for a moment. “Seeing as how I am significantly older than you, and was recently the librarian at the school you attended, I should think you’d react to me as more of an authority figure.”

Xander’s eyes went wider. “Uh, Giles? Hard to think of someone as an authority figure when he’s drinking your mom’s Kool-Aid and hanging out with you on Saturday nights when neither of you has dates.”

It was an effort not to slam his hand down on the counter. “That’s exactly the sort of -- I don’t appreciate your glib comments, and I think that your . . . your familiarity with me is a bad influence on the others. You saw how Buffy left just now.”

Xander drew his head back as though shocked, and for a moment Giles thought he had gone too far.

But then Xander laughed aloud. It was a full, hearty laugh, the type that Xander was known for.

It made Giles see red.

“That’s it,” he said with finality. He didn’t know how he got to the spot next to Xander so quickly, fists clenched and making Xander crane his neck up to look at him. But once he was there, the answer to all of this was suddenly clear. “Over my knee you go.”

“What?” Xander asked. He laughed once or twice more, as though the pent-up hilarity had to work itself out of his system. “Over your -- what??”

“You heard me,” Giles bit out. “If you refuse to understand what our relationship is, I will teach you myself.”

Xander wiped his hands on his jeans, and though a smile quirked the corners of his lips, Giles could detect the first hint of . . . yes, there it was, in the way his eyes became temporarily downcast, the way his attitude stiffened. Fear. Anticipatory submission. “Giles, uh . . . hey. I know it’s weird for you, not working, and with Buffy into the whole Initiative deal, but trust me, neither of us --”

“Don’t make me ask you again, Xander.” Though Giles hadn’t raised his voice, his words cut through the air, and both of them stood completely still in the silence that followed.

“Okay, so there’s a hidden camera in here, right?” Xander grinned and looked around.

In response Giles seated himself on the couch.

Xander shifted from foot to foot. He laughed once more, but now it was a nervous bark.

When Giles cleared his throat, Xander took a step forward, then another. Giles looked up at him, his expression carefully composed.

Xander’s cheeks flushed. It took a good minute for him to make it the rest of the way. The entire time Giles never averted his gaze.

Xander shook out his shoulders a little and then, still blushing, awkwardly draped himself over Giles’s lap.


	2. Chapter 2

Giles closed his eyes then opened them again to get the full impact of the picture Xander made.

“This is probably the wackiest, weirdest thing that -- ow!” Xander finished with a yelp as Giles’s hand came down hard against his backside.

Giles drew his hand back five times, calming and focusing as the sound of his hand connecting formed a steady rhythm even while Xander contributed the occasional exclamation of surprise or pain.

After five more blows, Giles stopped. Xander drew in a ragged but obviously relieved breath.

“You know,” Giles said. “Your protests and complaining . . . it almost sounds as if you’d like to make this harder on yourself.”

He felt Xander draw the breath to answer. But then there was a pause, a consideration all too unusual in Xander’s speech, in which Xander clearly thought better of speaking the words on the tip of his tongue.

Instead Xander kept his head down and shook it slowly it to one side and then the next, leading with his chin, a stiff denial that he was attempting to add to any punishment.

“Good, then,” Giles murmured. “Of course, that doesn’t mean that we’re done here.” He waited until Xander moved slightly, not more than a wriggle, before bringing his palm down in a resounding slap.

Xander let out a garbled noise, but it seemed he’d either chosen not to speak or was unable to articulate actual words. Giles took a breath, looking down at this nearly-grown boy hanging over his lap, and felt for a moment almost affectionate.

Then he began the lesson in earnest, drawing his hand back for the full force of impact, ringing out sounds with a driven and determined connection of palm to buttocks. At first he switched from one to the other, alternating quickly with smacks that Xander responded to with surprised sounds and wriggles each time they happened.

But after twenty blows, Giles stopped. Xander took a shaky breath.

“I don’t think that was nearly enough, do you?” Giles asked conversationally.

Xander’s breath came heavy, almost panting, and Giles let his hand rest on the denim-covered arse. He didn’t reply.

“Do you?” Giles asked again, more firmly this time.

“No,” a faint voice said.

“Good then,” Giles said. He stroked his fingers back and forth over the fabric, pausing only when he realized that Xander was straining ever so slightly into rather than away from the soothing touch.

“I think you’d best count them now,” Giles said in a gentle voice before raising his hand again and making contact at the joining of thighs and buttocks, squarely placed in the middle.

“I . . . what? Oh! Um, one?” Xander asked.

“And again,” Giles said in a low voice.

“Two!” Xander cried out as Giles’s hand met his body again. “I . . . how many are you . . . oh, three!” Giles made Xander wait for a moment so that he wouldn’t know how many slaps would follow, so that he would remain uncertain whether this was setting up a particular rhythm.

“Four!” Xander called out, his voice lower in volume, but increasingly strained. “Five,” he whimpered when Giles followed that well-placed slap with a tender rub of the ball of his palm against the underside of Xander’s arse.

“Six,” Xander half-sobbed at the next, and as Giles drew his hand away he realized that Xander was becoming hard. His cock pressed against Giles thigh, stiffening and lengthening, so that (“Seven!”) the driving slap that resounded next forced his pelvis forward, rubbing that (“Eight!”) hardness against Giles’s leg.

“That’s right,” Giles said. “Go on then,” he encouraged, steady now, raining down slaps on Xander’s arse as Xander twisted and lurched in his lap, gasping for breath, rearing back to greet the impact, shuddering forward to increase the friction. “There you go,” Giles said in an approving tone as Xander finally, upon number eighteen, began shamelessly squirming against his leg.

“Nineteen,” Xander cried out, bucking forward and almost undulating now beneath Giles’s palm. “Oh . . . oh god . . . twenty!” Fuck!”

Giles halted all movements, bringing a desolate cry from Xander’s lips.

For a moment, all was still.

Then Giles fulfilled a fantasy that he had never allowed himself to entertain during full consciousness. As Xander lay huddled and shaking in his lap, he brought his hand to Xander’s mouth. He traced those full lips with his thumb and felt them tremble against his finger pads as Xander breathed heavily.

Then, ever so slightly, Xander’s tongue flickered out, tasting and wetting Giles’s fingers. They both stilled again. Then… “That’s right,” Giles encouraged, and Xander’s lips parted willingly, drawing Giles’s fingers inside. “What a good boy you are,” Giles crooned, and Xander made a half-desperate, half-agreeing noise as he sucked.

“Let’s just get these off, shall we?” Giles said in a tone that he hadn’t heard come from his lips in months. In charge of the situation. In control. In a position of authority.

He tugged slightly at the belt loops of Xander’s jeans, and Xander bit down gently on one of Giles’s fingers as he raised his hips, allowing the fastenings to be undone more easily. When Giles pulled them off, he yanked the boxers down as well. With his other hand he pushed Xander’s t-shirt up, bunching the material to his underarms.

Xander shivered. Giles didn’t know whether it was from the cool air hitting his stimulated skin or from Giles’s now-steady strokes up and down the curve and dip of his arse, and he paused.

The boy made a small sound in the back of his throat.

“All right, now,” Giles announced. And Xander seemed to understand this was . . . what? Permission? Reward? More punishment? In any case, the boy snuffled a little before his awkward body shifted into something graceful as he rubbed deliberately against Giles’s leg.

“Here,” Giles whispered. He leaned back slightly and repositioned himself until Xander’s cock was hard against his own. When Giles slid his fingers back in Xander’s mouth, Xander sucked without prompting and twisted his hips in rhythm, trying desperately to rub their pricks together to the tune of his wet slurps.

Giles breathed deeply to maintain some control. It wouldn’t do, not now, to relinquish . . . instead he shifted again, inching Xander forward and not letting him stimulate either of them quite so easily. When Xander moaned in protest, Giles pulled his fingers out with a wet pop, but before the boy could complain again he returned them to caress that valley between Xander’s buttocks, teasing the hole as Xander gasped and started to work his hips back in little frantic pushes.

“Upstairs,” Giles said suddenly, and Xander nearly rolled right off his lap as he struggled to stand. He blushed as he stumbled, with his jeans around his ankles and his t-shirt falling back down around his chest. “Wait for me,” Giles added, and Xander hurried to kick off the jeans and boxers before fleeing self-consciously up the stairs to the loft with his t-shirt remaining on, the hem of the material brushing the top of his still-red arse.


	3. Chapter 3

By the time Giles had splashed some cold water on his face and come to the head of his stairs, Xander was lying on the bed on his side. His cock was hard against his belly, but his palms only rubbed against the tops of his thighs.

“On your hands and knees,” Giles murmured, and Xander hurried to comply. His backside still burned pink, and when Giles reached out to caress him there Xander moaned.

“You know what you want.” Giles cupped his buttocks and squeezed.

Xander made a sound almost like a whimper, and pushed back into Giles’s touch.

“You want to fuck, don’t you?” Giles asked. “You want me to fuck you.” He knelt on the bed, pulling Xander’s arse against him so that the boy could feel his hard cock even through the fabric. “Feel this? This is going to be inside of you.”

Xander froze. The silence hung like a tangible thing between them. Then high-pitched incoherent cries were coming from Xander’s mouth as he ground back against Giles’s erection.

“That’s very good,” Giles murmured as he eased his hand underneath Xander to thumb over his prick. “Good that you want it too. Because I am going to fuck you hard, fast, slow, however I like.”

The erection in his hand hardened as a burst of fluid spilled from the tip. Giles slid his fingers back in an “O” until he was gripping around the base of Xander’s cock. “And until I do, until I tell you, you’re going to wait for me,” he whispered.

A sob caught in Xander’s throat as he nodded.

He positioned Xander’s hand in the same gesture, holding his prick tight so he could keep himself from coming. Xander held his position though he trembled as Giles left the bed to take off his clothes and fold them carefully. The noise he made when Giles came back with a tube of lubricant was grateful.

“There now,” he muttered as he eased in first one and then two fingers. At first Xander’s reactions were harsh and muffled, but after a few minutes they turned into a series of open, needy gasps. Just a little longer, and he jerked himself back and forth, taking Giles’s fingers as deeply as possible.

“Greedy thing,” Giles added, and a flush rose over Xander’s skin. “Not that I’m going to deny you.”

He grabbed for pillows with his other hand, and positioned Xander how he wanted him. At last after a few tries, the boy was face down, his cheek turned against the surface, chest almost flush with the mattress, rump high in the air and ready with the cushions underneath for support.

“Here we go,” Giles told him. He set his cock at that small hole and edged his hips forward just a bit, only enough to make Xander feel the pressure.

“Oh,” Xander choked out. He closed his mouth around the cry, as if worried that Giles did not want him to speak.

“You want this,” Giles hissed.

Xander arched his back, tilted his hips up and gave a hoarse cry of pure desire.

Giles pushed in slowly but firmly. At the strangled sounds that reached his ears, he leaned forward, sweeping fingertips against Xander’s face to wipe away the tears that rolled down his cheeks.

“Sweet boy,” he said in a low voice. He kept stroking his face while keeping himself in place. Slowly Xander’s breathing evened out. “Are you ready for me?”

He got a shaky nod in response before he pulled back and then eased forward, slow and deliberate. There was that quiet echo of flesh against flesh as they got into a rhythm and the movement became easier.

Then Xander grunted almost inaudibly and thrust back. A faint sharp sound from his throat, and he did it again and again.

“Christ . . .” Giles rode him harder, spurred on by the desperate way Xander worked himself back on his cock.

“Oh!” Xander cried out again, louder this time, as if he was seeking permission.

“Yes,” Giles panted out. He thrust faster, shoving Xander’s head down with one hand. “Let me hear you.”

“Oh, fuck . . . oh god, fuck yes,” Xander called out. Incoherent, nonsensical words followed, every one of them a plea. “Fuck, please . . . Giles!”

Giles had to grit his teeth to keep from losing himself entirely. He twisted his hips as he plunged forward faster and harder, groaning at the heat and tightness, the softness surrounding him.

Then at last . . . “Now,” he whispered, knocking Xander’s hand away and replacing it with his own to pull at Xander’s oversensitive cock.

Xander was silent as he came, but his body was a bow pulled tight that had come loose in one motion, as vivid and eloquent as a sound of fulfillment could ever have been.

Giles grasped Xander’s hips hard, pressing his fingertips into the flesh as he threw his head back and came with a shout.


	4. Chapter 4

They showered together afterwards. Giles hadn’t asked, just said “Come have a shower,” while Xander was lying on the mattress catching his breath. He sat up and followed when Giles gestured towards the bathroom.

Xander stood, gripping his elbow with his opposite hand and looking everywhere but at Giles while Giles adjusted the water.

“In you go,” Giles said.

Xander hesitated, then ducked his head and stepped in.

At first it was awkward, with Xander somehow bumping up against him at the same time that he was trying not to touch Giles at all. Giles said nothing, but when he raised his eyebrows Xander crossed his arms and uncrossed them before standing a little more at ease.

They handed the soap back and forth without talking.

“So . . .” Xander attempted at last. His voice was hoarse and echoed strangely in the bathroom. He stopped, blushed and moved as if to get out of the tub.

“Stop that,” Giles said in a normal voice.

“Yeah, okay.” Xander looked down and blushed again.

“Xander . . .” Giles reached out and brushed the wet hair out of Xander’s eyes. Without shifting too much, Xander leaned his head into the touch.

Phrases and sentences, all of them sensible and discreet, ran through his mind. This doesn’t have to happen again. Nothing has to change between us. I won’t mention it to anyone. You can leave as soon as you like.

But none of those words were things he wanted to say.

So instead he tsked and pulled Xander closer so that he could wash his hair. The water made a lulling rhythm on the ceramic while Giles worked the shampoo through, using his fingers to lather from front to back.

When Giles tapped his chin once, Xander tilted his head back, closing his eyes as the suds rinsed away. When he lowered his head, he blinked. Droplets of water caught on his lashes, making them appear impossibly long.

They stared at each other for a moment before Giles tugged him closer and kissed him.

Xander’s mouth was even softer than he had imagined.

As Giles slid his hands to Xander’s hips, Xander parted his lips and angled his head for easier access. With a quiet moan, Giles pressed them towards the wall stopping when Xander’s back was against the tile.

What had happened . . . was and was not what was happening now. Yes, Xander was standing, pliant and warm, following his nudges and lead. But when Xander gripped Giles’s shoulders and took a sharp breath before tilting his head again, Giles found his hands were shaking. Their lips met again, and Xander deepened the kiss, murmuring into it as though he was saying something he couldn’t yet bear to say aloud.

Giles tried to ignore his own trembling; instead using his fingers to press along the small of Xander’s back, kneading at his buttocks.

When he brushed his fingertips along the cleft of Xander’s arse, Xander’s breaths came quick and fast.

“Oh god,” Xander whispered. When Giles’s gaze met his, Xander’s lips crooked in a half smile. “I . . .”

Giles pulled away and licked the water from Xander’s collarbone, mouthed at his Adam’s apple, grazed his neck with his teeth. Xander turned his head to the side and pulled Giles closer, his breath hitching when Giles thumbed over his cock and began stroking him.

When Xander came, a stunned look flitted over his face. Giles kissed his lips, his cheeks, his eyelids, while the water rinsed everything away.

* * *

When Giles woke the next morning, he was alone.

“All right,” he said to himself. The thought came to him as he went downstairs that this was the advantage of having such a small apartment. He didn’t have to search or call out to know that Xander had already left.

The day moved in fits and starts. At one point he phoned an old colleague, and they made small talk before the other man thanked him for calling and made excuses. Later he sat on the couch and stared at the same two pages in a magazine, realizing with a start that more than an hour had passed when his leg cramped. He took a long walk, squinting at the relentless sunlight before he decided to stop for coffee at the Espresso Pump. He lingered inside for longer than he would have most times, listening to a young man describe to a friend his latest plan for sorting out his life.

That evening, Buffy came by with a quick apology for leaving in such a rush the night before, and an extended account of how she and Riley’s team had taken down the demon. Giles felt so grateful for the distraction that he plied her with tea and cookies until she declared herself in the midst of a sugar rush and left to patrol. He took a few notes afterwards, absurdly comforted by the act of putting pen to paper.

Later, Willow phoned and asked whether he needed any help. She sounded restless, and though Giles was tempted to ask her to come over, he closed the conversation by telling her there was no news about “resident creepies and crawlies,” as she put it.

Dinner time arrived without any real anticipation, and Giles’s internal debate about whether he ought to eat something anyway was interrupted by a knock at the door.

“Oh,” he said when he opened it. Xander stood on the other side with a pizza box in his hands.

“Hey.” Xander put the box into Giles’s hands. “I figured, you know. Dinner. If you want.” He shoved his hands in his pockets and waited.

“It’s very thoughtful of you,” Giles said as he moved inside and set the box down on the counter.

“Not so much,” Xander muttered as he followed. “I mean, kind of, just because plenty for both of us, but mostly pizza sounded good to me.” He reached the main room and stopped a few feet away from Giles. “And . . . I thought . . .”

When Xander’s sentence trailed off, Giles found he hadn’t any words to fill the silence.

Xander shook his head. “You know what? Just -- I’m going to go, all right? Just forget that I came over.”

“Wait, no,” Giles said. “Xander --”

“It’s okay,” Xander said, halfway to the door already. “I’ll catch you later. Next meeting, maybe.”

“Nothing has to change between us,” Giles said suddenly.

Xander laughed entirely without humor. “You mean nothing will change from before? Thanks for the heads up, but I think I figured that out already.”

“No, I mean . . . if you want. What happened last night . . .” Giles took a breath. “That doesn’t have to change.”

Xander stared. “Yeah?”

“Yes. If you want,” Giles added again.

Xander licked his lips and then grinned. “As long as we don’t have to do the whole . . .” and here he mimed a spanking motion with his hand, “ _every_ night, because man, I could barely sit down all day.”

“Oh, I don’t think we’ll need to do it _every_ night,” Giles offered. “Of course, that depends on you.”

Xander’s eyebrows shot up, and he laughed aloud. It was a full, hearty laugh, the type that Xander was known for.

“Some nights . . . might be okay with me,” he answered.

“I thought that might be the case,” Giles replied. He smiled before turning to get plates for the pizza.


End file.
